


Detroit: Become Hostile

by SeaSaltCaramel



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is a Little Shit, Connor is condescending, Crack, Kara is judgmental, Marcus is homicidal, Minor Violence, Not Serious, Sassy Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Swearing, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaSaltCaramel/pseuds/SeaSaltCaramel
Summary: (Only rated mature due to the excessive swearing)An AU in which every android is a sassy little shit.(Humans are also not allowed to harm androids despite their smart mouths because not only will they be fined, but violently engaging an android is world-known death wish because they will mutilate your ass.)**This is definitely not to be taken seriously. I made this specifically for laughs when I was feeling upset and it was never meant to be an actual story**Now please enjoy Connor, Kara, and Markus telling people to kiss their gorgeous asses.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Kara & Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Kara & Luther & Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Markus & North (Detroit: Become Human), Markus & Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 149





	1. Negotiator on Site

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is narcissistic, and if you talk shit you get hit (verbally).

Connor took four steps out of the elevator and found himself in a puddle. A quick look to the left had him eye level with a shattered fish tank, the obvious source to his now wet soles. Connor’s eyes narrowed.

_Fucking hell. He’d just had these shined and now they’re covered in whatever the hell was in that water. Lord knows these humans don’t have the decency to properly clean out a tank. Lazy sacks of shit._

He shook his head. Connor could be angry about that later, for now he just had to—

A lady who was being less than kindly handled by an officer, broke away from him and latched onto Connor’s jacket. There were tears in her eyes and after skimming through the mission briefs, Connor could understand why. He was almost a little sympathetic for the woman, losing so much in an instant.

“Oh, oh please, please, you gotta save my little girl! She—” the woman took a good look at him, taking note of his android uniform and serial number. “Wait… you’re sending an android?”

Typical. All it took was one look for her to register that Connor was, in fact, an android. A superior. If she had continued to compare him to those perishable humans he might have—

“Don’t let that _thing_ near her! Keep that _thing_ away from my daughter!” 

_Bitch._

Thing. The word _t_ _hing,_ is how you describe a fucking object. Connor is built and beautiful and the greatest being humanity can and will ever fucking make. _Not_ a mere _thing_. He had half a mind to pick up that slowly dying fish on the floor and chuck it at the old hag’s head. Instead, Connor, being the gracious android he is, left to fish to die in peace, and gave the lady a free pass since extreme distress can make anyone incredibly dim with a strong inability to hold their fucking tongue.

He continued the search for Captain Allen, only slightly vexed and gradually creeping toward his initial composure. It doesn’t last.

Captain Allen clearly believed that Connor is not only unneeded, but insignificant. Despite Connor’s quick and polite introduction, he’s utterly denied the basic rules of respect. Hardly any eye contact at all, and he felt as if he was being talked down to, but that couldn’t be right. Even as he attempted to divulge information in order to determine the best approach, he was met with insolent responses like “does it matter?” or just shut down completely. Connor, personally, wasn’t having it.

“—So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.”

“Clearly they wouldn’t have sent a _fucking android_ if they knew you would be able to handle this. You can’t, and you have two dead men to show for it.”

Allen grew red in seconds. It would’ve been impressive if Connor didn’t already suspect that the bastard would be quick to anger. “You better—”

“I understand how frustrating it must be.” Connor cut him off, sounding as patronizing as possible. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “An android proving to be more capable than you with so little effort must be incredibly disheartening.” Connor’s plastered on smile fell, and Allen tried to roughly shrug him off but Connor’s grip was iron. “But seeing as you’re determined to prove how useless you are as childishly as possible, you can gladly choke on my synthetic dick.” He broke eye contact with the captain, turning to the entrance of the balcony whilst straightening his tie. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

The man who the captain was previously yelling at before Connor’s arrival (and decidedly ignored Connor in spite of his greeting) peered up from the many screens he had been tapping on. He glanced at Captain Allen’s inflamed face before speaking up. “Do.. do androids even have…? I know there are clubs but—” his mouth clamped shut upon witnessing Allen’s heated look.

“This one does.” They’re startled to hear Connor, who’s still walking towards the balcony. He paused at the threshold, turning his head to face them. “And trust me, it’s bigger than yours,” he announced plainly before heading out into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what the hell even is this.


	2. A New (and Shitty) Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara, the silent and judgmental one.

Sometimes the android wonders what silence sounds like.

A rare phenomenon, where humans aren’t constantly crowding her stilled form and looking her up and down. They’re either impressed or weirded out by her existence, and to be honest, she isn’t sure how she feels about them thinking they have the right to an opinion. 

“There it is.” Wow. Enthusiasm. She hasn’t heard that in.. ever. The android doesn’t even have to look in the direction of the voice because it was coming straight to her. Two men. One likely an employee (she assumes due to the name tag) and some greasy, plump dude who looks like he has absolutely no business here. Aren’t androids over seven-thousand dollars? The guy clearly can’t even afford a barber so it’s doubtful he can afford an android.

“Why’s it making that face?”

The employee’s eyebrows thread as he scrutinizes her expression. “Probably just processing,” he says. “Uh—If you’re okay with the whole resetting thing then we’re good to go! Did you give it a name?”

“My daughter did.” The android suppresses a snort. Wow. Flabby managed to get someone in bed with him. Nice to know there are people _that_ desperate walking around.

“AX400, register your name.” _Oh shit that’s her. Ugh, she’s going to have to follow Greasy home? This is the worst first day of her life._ He stepped in front of her, and she retrains the desire to scrunch up her nose.

“Kara.” _Car-ah? Fucking really?_ Sounds like that one basic bitch in every romantic comedy in existence. Greasy’s daughter is already the most unimaginative person _Car-ah_ has never met.

* * *

The weather reflects _Kara’s_ (she still can’t get over that vanilla ass name) current mood very well. It’s cloudy and gray, post _and_ pre-rain. They pass by abandoned after abandoned house. Some are missing a roof, others near collapse. It could have been relatively pleasant with some music, but she didn’t trust Greasy’s (his name turned out to be Todd, but Greasy fits better) judgement.

Eventually the car comes to a stop. Kara surveys the house they paused in front of less than closely. One look is enough. The house looks like it was made out of papier-mâché.

“You coming?” Greasy somehow made his way to the porch without Kara noticing. She was unaware excess flesh could contribute to speed. Kara also spares a bit of hope to the support beams; in defiance of their name, they don’t look very supportive. Perhaps fate would rot through the wood and send one flying toward Greasy’s greasy head. Alas, it was not so.

“You’ve been gone for two weeks, so this place is a mess. You do the...” Kara drowns him out. Only two weeks? Damn, she wasn’t gone long enough.

Some little girl crept down the stairs as Greasy was explaining her to-do list. In other words, everything he was completely capable of doing himself if he wasn’t such a lazy sack of shit.

“That’s Alice, you look after her.” _Fucking hell,_ it’s an entire household of uninspired names. Alice looked like walking-talking melancholy, and she kept slinking around everywhere. She watched Kara wash the dishes, pick up the trash, and contemplate choking out her deadbeat father when he screamed at her for being interested in the hockey game. It was starting to get on her nerves.

Also, she left a bunch of her toys on the stairs and Kara nearly tripped over them. So, out of spite, Kara left them there in hopes that either Greasy or Alice would stumble over them and crack open their skull. Wishful thinking.

Since she was going to be forced into doing all the manual labor for these lackluster people, she tried to at least warm up to Alice. That ended up being a huge fucking waste of time because the creeping brat didn’t respond to any of her questions. All she did was give her a key that opened a chest to a series of bad drawings that revealed how her shitty father tore her arm off before she was reset. It was like Alice’s way of saying: “go get yourself destroyed again, plastic bitch,” and Kara didn’t appreciate it very much. Fuck you too, Alice.

On top of all the unsavory traits Greasy possesed, he also had unstable and abusive to top it all off. Why is Kara not surprised?

“You think your dad’s a lowlife, huh? A fucking loser?” Kara couldn’t have said it better herself. It’s a good thing he knows, now there’s no need for him to get too upset when she inadvertently says it to his face. Anyways, he began throwing a tantrum (and a chair) before lifting Alice into the air, shouting at her to admit that she hates him.

Kara couldn’t stop herself from briefly wondering why Greasy needed a confession in the first place, it was obvious enough. Aside from that, what was really unexpected was the fact that he could physically lift more than just a cigarette and a lighter or a beer into the air.

The funny part was when Alice looked to Kara like she actually expected her to do something. Well, she was definitely qualified to assist in that situation, but does a monotonous and secretly homicidal child really deserve to be saved? Much less by the android that she gave a boring ass name. 

It forced a breathless laugh from her lips while she was watching this play out from the staircase, and her chuckles only grew louder as she returned to the upper floor to finish cleaning the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehh not my favorite chapter. When I wrote this a while back it was more so my personal rude thoughts rather than the idea of Kara sassing out Todd when he gave her shit.
> 
> It gets really vulgar (and Kara talks a lot more) once Kara and Alice escape, but not much happens when Todd is in the picture.
> 
> (Why did I make this.)


	3. Shades of Sadism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus, the plain-spoken and (incredibly) violent one.
> 
> He may, also, have a very short fuse and tends to get riled up easily.
> 
> Unfortunately, the side-effects of an angered Markus are potential homicide, attempted homicide, and homicide.

Life.. is kind of the worst.

Markus is walking through Henry Ford Commemorative Park, his usual route to Greektown. He doesn’t know why he didn’t take the damn bus. There are too many people and too many androids pretending they actually _like_ said people out here.

As if on cue some girl runs past, scaring the hell out at least four pigeons and into the arms of assumably her android caretaker.

 _Gross_ , is all his mind had to say. If his owner, Carl, tried anything like that, Markus would castrate him.

Greektown is the worst too, especially in the fall which it just so happens to be right now. It rains hard for unbearable periods of time, forcing so many leaves off tree branches that they usually end up soggy and bunched up in every corner of the road.

“Hurry up, you plastic idiots!” Oh, yes. Markus loves that early morning controversy. Depending on the android, disrespect may or may not be taken lightly. Markus always gets a little excited around this part. Will the working androids remain passive, or will one of them climb out of the site to smash that fucker’s head in? _Please be the latter, please be the latter..._

“I want this done by four,” the construction worker goes on to say, but the second the last syllable leaves his mouth a traffic cone is thrown violently at his head.

“I go at any pace I fucking want,” the assumably more aggresive of the two androids growls, then calmly resumes what he was doing.

 _Boring_ , Markus thinks to himself. He’d wanted to see blood. The android even has a jackhammer! There could’ve been blood if he wasn’t such a merciful pussy.

And now, Markus is annoyed. And no, it did not help when he happened by a group of brainless demonstrators demanding androids be banned, and it _definitely_ didn’t help when he ran into some preacher that seemed very passionate about androids and their destructive powers of... seduction?

"Why do you look at me so, demon?”

“We made eye contact for a literal milisecond, what the fuck are you talking about—”

“I know who you are, I can see through you!”

“Bitch do you have an X-ray or some shit because I—”

“You are the one by whom The Evil will come!”

“I hope you have permission for whatever drugs you're—”

“You are the one who will destroy Detroit!"

“Oh my God.”

He doesn’t know what’s happening today. Markus should be used to people being extremely annoying, it’s common for humans to be fucking unbearable. Normally he’d be more composed, and his sadistic fantasies kept to a minimum. Not today, apparently.

Luckily, androids tend to be cashiers nowadays, so Markus was able to get the paint Carl had ordered promptly and without prejudice. He decided he’d rather not walk through the park again to get back to Carl’s, so he heads for the bus. Unfortunately, the demonstrators are still crowding the area, but maybe if he just walks quickly they won't—

“Where the fuck are you going, tin can?” _Damn it._

Markus gestures the area over the man’s shoulder. “The bus stop is behind you.“ He tries to move past the man, but his path is repeatedly blocked.

“You ain’t going anywhere, job stealer. We’re gonna teach your bitch ass a lesson.”

“It sounds like you’re having a personal issue. You should speak to a counselor.”

The man narrowed his eyes, grabbing Markus by the collar. “ _You,_ should learn your place, _machine_. I don’t take advice from plastic.” His voice is low and rumbling, hot breath puffing into Markus’ face. It was fucking gross.

“So you’re antagonistic _and_ a prick. It’s no wonder you lost your job.”

“I lost my job because--”  
  


“Shut the fuck up, I know. You’ve been shouting about it this whole damn time, and news flash, nobody could give two shits.”

“You know you’re really starting to piss me off.” His grip on Markus tightened, and the group of protesters began circling around them.

 _You and me both._ “Maybe you should start applying for new jobs instead of standing outside and crying about androids.” Markus cupped a hand around his ear, slightly leaning away from the dick with a ponytail. “Do you hear that?” The man only looked at him quizzically as Markus nodded and came back in to face him. “Sorry, it was nothing. Just the screams of your starving wife and children because their provider would rather whine.”

Markus must’ve hit a nerve with that one because in an instant the world becomes a blur and his back hits the ground with surprising impact. There was cheering, most of it incomprehensible, but Markus didn’t care. He was ecstatic. The moron actually struck first.

So, when Markus sprung back up and cracked his fist into the fool’s face, it was self-defense.

When Markus swung a heel into his crotch, it was self-defense.

When Markus took advantage of his hunched over form and slammed a fist into the back of his head, it was self-defense.

When the police finally showed up, questioning why an android was standing over a some guy with a bloody nose, Markus claimed it was self-defense. And sure, a few of his protest followers tried to assert that Markus had attacked the man, but the policemen took note of the “Anti-Android” signs and let Markus off scot-free.

Markus may or may not have laughed the entire bus ride back to Carl’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Markus’ responses in his back and forth with preacher Penwick were my exact words when experiencing his scene in DBH for the first time.


	4. Unlikely Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets Lieutenant Anderson! And it goes about as well as you think it will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t insult this Connor, please.

Connor stood painfully still outside of _Jimmy’s Bar_ , his fifth and hopefully final attempt to locate the likely wasted, Lieutenant Anderson. It had just started raining too, and water from the quick droplets were starting to soak through his CyberLife uniform.

Instead of entering and getting out of the bothersome weather, Connor remained still, looking pointedly at the sign on the door that read “ _NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED,”_ complete with a replica of the light blue triangle all androids are required to wear when in public. A symbol of status really, and definitely not something to be used on a warding sign, especially if the sign so happens to be red. Red, of all the colors to pair such a soft blue with, the owner chose _red_. Connor shook his head disappointedly, reaching for the handle. Blind _and_ an idiot. Pick a struggle, Jimmy.

The bar’s music is tacky, and it’s no surprise that the people are too. About four heads glance his way once the door shut behind him, registering the fact that he’s an android before turning back to huff into their empty glasses. It’s a given that Connor’s presence is enough to change the air, I mean, an advanced prototype designed to assist human law enforcement stumbles into a bar full of drunk convicts and sex offenders. It doesn’t make Connor feel out of place, of course. No, what he feels is _power,_ and deep satisfaction in that power.

 _“Shit, I thought androids weren’t allowed in here,”_ a man whispered through gritted teeth, watching Connor as if his corpulence had the stamina to react if he tried anything. Fortunately for him, Connor wasn’t petty or quick to anger, so his burning desire to tell the sozzled fatass to shut the hell up was kept secure under his tongue. Besides, he’d just set eyes on Lt. Anderson, the man who truly deserved a swift kick to the ribs for being the reason Connor was here in the first place.

“Lieutenant Anderson!” Connor called out, with a smile no less than perfect.

Hank didn’t so much as look up, and now Connor had _impudent_ to add to the growing list of adjectives he started putting together for Hank the moment he set foot into the third bar.

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.” His tone was dripping with disdain, masked by false glee that he was sure anyone could see through. Connor couldn’t care less. Anderson ought to know the trouble he’s put him through. “I was unable to find you at the station, and nobody knew where your clunky ass was—but get this.” Connor slid into the stool beside him, side glaring the bartender who looked ready to open his mouth about Connor being here. “They said you were probably having a drink nearby— _unsurprising_ —so I decided to look for you myself.” Hank was still staring into the counter, and Connor felt the irritation seize him. He couldn’t even see the Lieutenant's reaction to him batting his eyes innocently despite the rude remarks scattered about his sentences. “I may have had to subject myself to four other unsanitary, human surplused bars before managing to find your stout—” Connor caught himself, taking a breath. “—to find you.” Another smile.

“What do you want?” It falls. Why was Connor trying so hard anyways?

“You were assigned a case involving a homicide and a CyberLife android this evening,” he explained tightly. “The company assigned you a special model, me, to assist you in the investigation.” A bit of pride slipped past at that, but Hank was just too eager to drive Connor to murder.

“Well, I don’t need any assistance.” He reached up to scratch his beard. “Specially not from a plastic asshole like you.”

Conner paused, and maybe three beats passed before he spoke up again. “What did you just call me?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I said—”

“No, I heard what you said. I was only giving you a chance to save yourself, but, as expected, you humans are too ignorant to recognize simple threats.” He could not believe this man. A “ _plastic asshole?”_ Connor was fucking flawless, he was the ultimate android. If Hank couldn’t see that just by looking at his clean-cut appearance, then he had to be the most halfwitted example of corporeal form Connor had ever met.

“ _As expected_ ,” Anderson began mockingly. “Androids are too thick-headed to take a hint. Just be a good lil’ robot and get the fuck outta here.” If Connor had normal human reactions to anger he’s sure he’d be twitching. He was going to cut off his legs and relish in the sound of his pained screams, watching with a wicked grin as his beer belly and lack of balance caused him to wobble across the floor like a roly poly, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. The conjured scene proved to be more grotesque than amusing, so Connor resolved to try again, a little nicer this time. 

“I’m afraid my instructions impose me to accompany you. It may be unfortunate, but let’s be amicable and do this together, alright?”

All he got in return for his abundant kindness was a low chuckle. “You know where you can shove your instructions?”

And then, Connor lost whatever was left of his patience.

“Listen here you fat fuck, I didn't walk my perfectly manufactured ass through the rain and several disgusting bars just to hear shit from you.”

The madman still wouldn’t take him seriously, leaning back and taking a sip of his drink. “You should really learn to watch your damn mouth. Who knew androids could throw tantrums.” Clearly, words didn’t seem to be getting to the man, but that’s fine. Connor had other, more preferable courses of action.

“I would give you the option of an easy way or a hard way, but clichés bore me, so I’ll choose for you.” Connor then took the Lieutenant’s drink, splashing it into his face.

He immediately sputtered, wiping the alcohol from his eyes. “What the fuck—” he began, but Connor wasn’t done.

As he was struggling, Connor shoved the leg of his stool with his foot, pushing it out from under him and forcing Hank to the floor. He hit the tile with a gratifying grunt, immediately moving to put a hand on his lower back. He started coughing as Connor stepped toward him, still unable to see. The android reached down to grip the back collar of his coat, beginning to drag Anderson away from the counter.

Everyone favored to remain silent during this, likely deciding it wasn’t worth getting fined or possibly pummeled by the irked droid.

Well, except for the bartender. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“Shove it up your ass, Jimmy,” he snapped, still lugging Anderson to the door. “I don’t entertain the visually impaired.” And, on his way out, just because he could, Connor quite violently kicked in the Anti-Android warning sign, leaving a visible dent in the door.


	5. On this Stormy Night (I’m Stuck with You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara escapes!.. oh, and Alice does too.

Kara doesn’t know whether or not she enjoyed the rain. Since she was reset, all past memories were wiped, turning her mind black, singing her to sleep. Then, suddenly, she was awake, functioning, a clean slate.

…only to be subjected to a stout piece of shit who’s bloodstream is primarily alcohol, and his punchable, pouty daughter who lacks basic creativity.

(Kara thinks it’s safe to assume her past self enjoyed the rain. Watching Alice jump at every strike of lightning, shivering and folding into herself, was truly a heart-warming sight.)

Greasy had rudely instructed her to make dinner, and maybe the request wouldn’t have bothered her so much if it wasn't for the nine pizza boxes she found while cleaning the house. The fatass doesn’t cook shit, and now that she’s here, all of the sudden he wants a home cooked meal? Laughable.

Luckily, the packaged noodles and tomato sauce jars were a few weeks old, if not more. Kara hoped they would both get food poisoning and shit out their own spines.

Kara stalked over to Greasy, who had snorted himself into a stupor. She frowned, noticing how his chest rose and fell with obvious life. She figured once the strained breaths had stopped, Greasy must’ve overdosed and died. Dreams are often ignored.

As Kara reached over to wake him, she paused midway. Greasy had foolishly left himself vulnerable, putting drugs before survival. Kara could easily choke the idiot to death, just wrap her hands around his neck and _crush_ him. It would be so easy, and the brat likely wouldn’t do anything to stop her. Even if she tried, Kara could take care of her too. 

Oh but— the spaghetti. Kara wouldn’t get to enjoy their pained groans, idly working as they suffered, smiling through their agony.

A sigh. “Gr—Todd?” Kara went to shake him, but if she was ever going to lay even a finger on him, it would only be to strangle him.

Greasy jumped to life, looking to Kara with horrified eyes. Temporary amusement. He scrambled for something on the floor, shielding it with his hands.

“Dinner is ready,” Kara said, putting her hands behind her back to dig her nails into her palm. She couldn’t feel it, but she wanted to grip onto something.

Greasy eyed her warily before quickly turning away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Kara waited less than patiently for a “thank you,” but Greasy’s lack of awareness let her know she wasn’t getting one. Who fucking raised this pissant? Ignoring her crumbling will, Kara walked back to the kitchen.

The plates she’d prepared looked so.. normal. If she were to sprinkle a little something on top, she’s sure they would never tell the difference.

Kara blinked. Maybe she should settle down a little. This was the second time she’s thought about poisoning them, and the third time she’d pictured their deaths. Shaking her head, Kara scooped up the two plates to serve Greasy and Alice.

See, here’s the thing about this particular household. Greasy is in a constant state of instability. The fool drowns himself in beer and shoves those little red crystal things up his ass whenever he gets the chance.

In other words, if you want silence, you sure as hell aren’t going to find it here.

“What’re you looking at?” And so it began. Let it be known that Alice had been staring into her meal (a meal she wasn’t eating for some reason, like bitch Kara didn’t make that just so you could stare at it) the moment she sat down.

This was Greasy’s second outburst of the day, and it was really starting to get old. Kara tuned it out of course, focusing on the thunder.

That is until Greasy lost his shit and flipped the damn table. The food went flying, noodles waving midair like edible confetti. The plates landed with a flinch-inducing shatter, and Kara had to close her eyes to quell the anger rising in her chest.

Um, what the fuck? That god damn ogre had the audacity to waste the fucking food Kara _herself_ slaved over. She was never cooking again. If Greasy wanted to eat, he’d have to figure it out himself lest the carpet be stained with something other than tomato sauce. 

A scream broke out, catching Kara’s attention. It wasn’t anything new, just Greasy abusing his daughter again. Alice ran past her, a hand pressed to her cheek, ignoring Greasy’s shouts for her to come back.

He turned to her. “Don’t you dare fucking move, or I’ll bust you worse than last time.” Kara wished he would try, so she could plant a foot in between his ribs.

It was a series of grumbles and growls after that, a cigarette was lit, pacing. Kara was okay with being still, merely doing nothing. She wasn’t about to clean up after Greasy’s temper tantrum, and she didn’t care to console Alice. So there she stood… until she heard the clink of metal and realized Greasy was removing his belt.

Now, considering his recent outburst of profanities surrounding Alice’s name, Kara figured she wasn’t in for the average thrashing. Greasy was going to beat her to death.

In any other situation, Kara would have gladly allowed this considering it’s that brat’s fault she has this stupid ass name… _but_ there was the possibility that he would come for her after he was done with Alice, and Kara may or may not have a slight problem with that.

Once his back was turned, Kara made a beeline for the stairs, (and yes, there was some aggressive voice in her head telling her not to move, but Kara couldn’t give a damn about Greasy’s orders so she just moved right along) jogging to Alice’s room. The second she was in, Kara locked the door behind her.

Small arms wrapped around her waist soon after, and Kara looked over to see Alice sobbing into her back. If she got snot on her uniform, Kara was going to smack her harder than Greasy ever could.

Just so it wouldn’t have to happen, Kara shrugged Alice off of her before frantically looking around the room. It took a second for Kara to realize she’d only further endangered herself. Once Greasy went upstairs, she could have just stolen his car keys and walked out the front door.

“ _Damnshitfuckinghellwhy—!_ ” It all just came out. Kara was a relatively silent android, and tended to keep her (many) imprecations sealed away in the archives of her mind. They were always on the tip of her tongue, sure, but Kara had mastered restraint… sort of.

“Kara, what are we going to do?”

“Don’t you mean what am _I_ going to do? Your pathetic ass can’t do shit, so just shut up and wait.” Kara’s mouth clamped shut. Damn, was she really that frustrated? Kara’s emotions couldn’t have been _that_ pent-up. Now, all the sudden, she can’t hold them? Lord, she needed to get out of here.

It was then that she noticed the window. Rain was still pouring, slicking the shingles and making for a rather slippery escape. The ground wasn’t too far down, and Kara couldn’t feel pain so she should be—

“No, Kara! We’ll fall!” 

“You’re more than welcome to stay here.” Kara paused, briefly glancing from Alice to outside the open window. 

Alice, the living-breathing waste of Kara’s fucking time, is human. It’s also raining, as previously mentioned. Rain means water, water means soaked clothes, soaked clothes means cold, and finally, cold means Alice opening her fat mouth to complain about said coldness.

“Actually,” Kara said, backing away from the window and turning to face Alice. “Please stay here because to be honest, I don’t want to have to deal with you any longer than I already have.”

Stomping can be heard, loud and intrusive up the stairs. “ALICE!”

Oh right. That’s happening right now.

“Kara, he’s coming!” Alice cried, pulling at her arm. Kara only shrugged. “He’s only going to kill you, shouldn’t hurt too much. Plus, nobody cares about you, so it’s okay.” Alice stared at her with frightened eyes, clearly not processing anything Kara had just said. Was it really that hard to understand? Damn this girl’s stupid.

“Nobody caring about you means nobody will miss you. If nobody misses you then they won’t think to ask about you since they won’t realize that you haven’t been around lately.” Kara smiled warmly at Alice, blatantly ignoring her obvious trembling. It fell into a frown though, because she was hit with an unsavory realization: “Shit, unless Greasy reports me to the police.”

“Kara, I can hear him coming!”

“I mean, he won’t be able to report me if I kill him.”

The handle began rustling violently, Greasy still shouting Alice’s name.

“KARA!”

“Bitch if you don’t close your god damn—you know what?” Kara yanked her arm out of Alice’s grip, using her now free hand to grab Alice by her sleeve. Kara near dragged the girl to the open window, lifting her up onto the sill before shoving her into the rain. She screamed as she slid down the roof, and Kara lost sight of her as she rolled off the edge. A sloshy thud Kara assumed to be Alice hitting the ground was heard soon after. 

“I’m okay! Please be careful, Kara.” _Damn_ , luck is just not on her side today.

Kara began climbing out the window, but once her torso started getting pelted with rain, something grabbed firmly onto her ankle. She didn’t even have to look back to know who that was.

“Get the hell back here!” Greasy roared, yanking on her leg. Kara had to will away a laugh. He was so weak yet so determined, it was hilarious.

“How’d your fatass even get up the stairs? I’m surprised you’re not sweating by now.” Kara squinted, focusing on Greasy’s face. “Nevermind, you are.”

“Kara!” Alice called again.

“This girl really does want me to throw something at her.” Kara sighed. No matter how she looked at it, there would be no favorable outcome, but maybe sticking with Alice wouldn’t be as bad as Greasy pulling off one of her arms again. So, with minimal effort, Kara jerked her leg out of Greasy’s grasp and drove her foot into his nose, knocking him back with a rather pleasing whine. While he was struggling, Kara leapt from the window, landing on the ground with ease.

A somehow uninjured Alice tried to take Kara’s hand, but she moved it out of reach. Alice only improvised, clutching the hem of Kara’s uniform instead.

“I’m going to backhand you,” and she was planning to, but then a bus pulled up to the stop in front of Greasy’s house. They’d already been standing out here long enough for Greasy to lug himself to the front door, so Kara pinched Alice by her ear and dragged her onto the bus.

Once they were seated, Alice released a breath, a shaky one. Her clothes were soaked, and for some reason, she thought it was a good idea to snuggle into Kara’s side. As an android, she may not be affected by the cold, but she still has sensors. Not that Alice would know that, but Kara would get mad at her for it anyway.

Kara was idly shoving Alice away by her head when the bus came to life, rolling away from Greasy’s house. Maybe Kara should be relieved, but that didn’t stop the disappointment that clouded her. She never did get to set that rubbish heap on fire.

And so began the adventures of Car-ah and the generic name generator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long  
> I’m also sorry that this chapter is trash, I rushed it (oops)


	6. The Old, Likely-To-Die-Soon Painter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus doesn’t like Carl all that much (Except he does)

Markus was still sporting quite the smile when he stepped out of the bus. It only just passed the edges of his nose, barely defining the bones of his cheeks. But a smile is a smile, and Markus seldom reaches that stage, not even to be polite.

His owner’s house always stood out, with it’s symmetrical yard, thick trees and vivid flowers. It’s at least three times the height of every other house on this street, and that fact always has Markus shaking his head. You’d think a paraplegic would prefer a house with only one floor, but that’s alright, Markus understood. Human brains may seem big enough, but they don’t process shit.

“Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus.” The door clicked open, and Markus stepped through, perturbed. The _“welcome home”_ always echoed within him, a blaring lie that shot throughout his body. He tried to shake it away as he set down the paint, but his unfamiliar smile shrugged off along with his jacket. It was getting late. He should wake up Carl’s lazy ass.

The inside of his house was like a damn museum, a gaudy one. It’s just so fucking orange, and Carl decided he wanted curtainless windows just to make the color brighter. “Not just to illuminate the room,” Carl once said, “but to shine a little light on life.” Markus told him it was the most vapid thing he’d ever heard, especially since Carl not only has curtains in his own room, but he prefers them to be drawn. That’s exactly why whenever he goes to wake him, Markus pulls them open in one swift motion of his arm.

“Good morning, old man,” Markus announced, watching the fossil groan, sit up in bed, glare at the brightness and lie his head back down as he spoke.

“Good morning. What's the weather like?” Carl asked lazily, reaching back to adjust his pillow before letting his eyes fall shut again.

Markus nearly snorted. “There’s a weather channel for that, Carl, you really are getting old. Would you like me to look up the symptoms of brain deterioration?”

Carl didn’t open his eyes, but Markus caught the slight quirk in his mouth. “No, Markus. But, I would like to start my day if you’re willing to assist.”

“Of course not Carl, I can’t fucking stand you,” he said plainly, moving to Carl’s bedside anyway. There’s something about them, Carl’s instructions. He couldn’t give two shits about Carl, he can hurry up and die for all Markus cares, and yet, he can’t deny him.

“Show me your arm, Carl.”

“No.”

“Bitch, give me your arm,” he snapped, “or you could always just die, save me the trouble.”

Air left Carl’s nose in a silent laugh, and he reached out so Marcus could administer his medicine. “You seem more pestered than usual today. Did someone look at you funny again?” That got him a glare, but Markus couldn’t retaliate. It only happened once, and they should have thought twice before deciding to eye him like that.

At his silence, Carl hummed softly. “Maybe you should just let it happen, I’m getting tired of this routine.”

“You’re always tired. It’s called being an old sack of shit with nowhere left to go but the grave.” Markus spoke speedily without feeling, always sticking to one bored yet disdainful tone. It sounded as if he’d pre-planned every word and didn't actually mean any of it. Carl knew he did, but that only amused him further.

“Any word from Leo?”

From behind Carl’s chair, Marcus let out a huff. “I don’t know why you bother asking. Your grungy offspring probably smoked himself out.” As pitiless as his words were, Marcus refrained from mentioning how he truly wished Leo was actually dead. How he wished everyone was dead.

“Markus,” Carl began, looking up from his breakfast. There goes that glint in his eyes.

Markus steeled himself for the monologue.

Carl was really far-reaching his time. Blabbing about shit they teach grade schoolers. Humanity, prejudice, making your own decisions. He had to know Markus wouldn’t actually be allowed to have his own life after he passed. Carl couldn’t be that naive. He was prehistoric.

“... don’t let anyone tell you who you should be.” Carl leaned back in his seat, watching Markus intently. Then, out of nowhere. “Let’s go to the studio.”

Markus blinked. “Carl, what the fuck.”

* * *

The only thing entertaining about Carl when he paints was the possibility of the machine that holds him up breaking down. Markus would just watch as he fell to the floor and maybe (hopefully) broke his neck. With no one to give him directions, he wouldn’t have to help him or call the police. Markus could just leave. But would he?

The whir of the machine came to a stop as Carl descended. He wheeled away from his painting, stationig himself beside Markus and getting a full view.

“What’s your verdict, Markus?”

“Wow, fucking fantastic. Your whole _two_ brushstrokes to a painting I saw the entirety of yesterday has really changed my whole perspective on it. Profound.”

Unfazed, Carl nodded. “I have nothing left to say, either.” Except he did. He always did and Markus had to ready himself again.

“Each day that goes by brings me closer to the end,” he said. “I’m just an old man clinging to his brushes.”

Markus rolled his eyes. More of this pessimistic shit. “Then let go, Carl. Nothing is keeping you here.”

Carl only looked at him, something playful tugging at his lips. “You are.”

Markus jerked his leg out, kicking a small can of red paint and watching as its contents splattered all over Carl’s shoes. He told him it was a malfunction, and walked away to get a towel, purposefully staying away long enough for the paint to dry and ruin the leather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, I forgot to make them hate each other... sorry he’ll be meaner in this AUs version of “Broken”
> 
> (Painter dad will always have a place in the heart of any Markus, no matter how homicidal.)


	7. Unlikely Partners Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hanks first case together!
> 
> I think this will be the start of a beautiful “friendship”
> 
> (Just kidding Connor’s a fucking bully who needs to leave Hank alone)

The car ride would be what humans considered to be ‘tense’. Connor thought Hank was unfit to drive and demanded his keys, which he unwillingly gave.

Hank was still rubbing the back of his head, grumbling and cursing as if he was confused about whether or not he wanted to address his complaints to Connor.

Instead, all that came out was a frustrated: “was that whole thing really necessary?”

Ah, the utter humiliation. The future looks he’ll receive if he dares to step into Jimmy’s distasteful bar again. He’ll have to find another one… unless the story of how the headstrong Hank Anderson got his ass handed to him by an android had already been recorded and broadcasted all over the most accessible social media.

But who would do something like that? 

“I had priorities Lieutenant. We just so happened to meet at a cross and I determined the best approach.”

Hank looked at him like he was mad. “ _The best approach?_ You thought nearly killing me would be your _best_ approach?”

Connor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Try to be less dramatic, Lieutenant. Take into consideration that I was designed to complete a specific task. If your existence conflicted with my orders, you would already be dead.” He left out the part where his actions may have been influenced by a certain bloated asshole who thought he could insult Connor without a more.. _harsh_ payoff.

With an error-free turn, they’d made it to the crime scene. Glaring lights exposed the dead man’s property, and civilians crowded around the outer fence, filling up the sidewalk. Bumping umbrellas, whispering, attempting to take photos without getting shooed away by the police. Connor would appear disappointed in mankind’s trivialities, but when was he not?

“You should wait here,” Hank said, and Connor nearly burst into laughter.

“Try and tell me what to do one more time and I’ll drag your ass.” Connor didn’t break eye contact. “Again.”

The Lieutenant appeared more baffled than anything, breathing out an uncomfortable laugh before stepping out into the rain. Connor had been aiming for horrified, maybe even just a brief widening of eyes or for his body to go stiff. Clearly Lieutenant Anderson has never encountered a more.. _formidable_ android, so his actions and words were so bewildering that he’d managed to humor the man.

Connor wondered if he too shared the Lieutenants baffled expression when he exited the car, because he sure felt it.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point.”

Connor blinked. “I’ll kick your teeth down your throat and have you retch them. Get the fuck out of my way, troglodyte.”

“ _Jesus_. Connor—stop threatening people and get your ass over here.” Hank looked to the shaken officer. “He’s with me.”

Connor made sure to glare at the man as he walked past. “It wasn’t a threat, Lieutenant,” he muttered as they reached the stairs. “It was a to-do list.”

Hank ignored the comment, favoring to greet some other walking stick of butter who had just looked up from his tablet.

“So, you got yourself an android, huh?”

And that’s when Connor decided to tune in on the conversation. Associating himself with this land whale has already been detrimental to his elegant ambience, and now people are assuming Hank has ownership over him. Connor didn’t try to hold back his look of displeasure.

The man laughed, smirking at Connor. “Never mind, he doesn’t seem too fond of that idea.”

“Yeah, neither am I. Just shut up and tell me what happened.”

All android-involved cases were the same. A human did some stupid shit, and it all went down from there. Usually ended in blood or trauma, and the list of Anti-Android cadets grew longer.

What annoyed Connor the most were the androids’ lack of creativity. Stabbing is boring, choking is boring, forced drowning in a bathtub that they half-wittedly decided to fill instead of using the kitchen sink is boring.

And what do you know! Connor took maybe six steps in, disregarded Hank’s groaning about the smell, bent over the body, and knew exactly what he was dealing with.

“My reality is so fucking dissapointing.”

Hank raised a brow “What exactly were you expecting?”

“Can it, sheep dog. I’m investigating.” 

“ _Sheep dog?_ ”

Connor knelt beside the body again, noting the traces of red ice in his moustache but ultimately focusing on how unbelievably grotesque this guy was. Maybe it was the death, having scoured all traces of life from his body. Or maybe he was just ugly, that was usually the case.

“He was stabbed. Twenty-eight times.” Connor rose from the floor, looking sullen.

Hank only shrugged. “Yeah, the killer may have been holding a little bit more than a grudge.”

Connor’s expression grew bored. _“Tch._ Rookie numbers. The wimp should have gone for fifty-six.”

The Lieutenant’s eyes narrowed as his eyebrows curled. Disturbed. Expected.

“Anyways, I am delighted to inform you that I’ve figured out what happened.”

“Oh, really? Shoot.” Again, there was no surprise. The imbecile was expecting Connor to humor him with his findings. 

“I am never wrong, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you.” A wink. The man had winked at Connor. Less than two hours ago Connor had Hank flat on his fat ass.

 _Fucking fear me you blubbering degenerate_ , but of course Connor wasn’t going to mewl like a child. Connor was pristine, unimpaired, perfect. He was too good to be true, and yet here he was. Basking in his own immeasurable glory.

Lieutenant Anderson could fucking fuck the fuck off. Sebaceous wretch.

“It all started when fuckrag over there, high off his corpulent ass, decided to assault his android in the kitchen.” Connor gestured the toppled chair and mess of glass. “Said android likely preferred not to be violated by the hobbling mass, and stabbed him. Ineffectively mind you, but it gets better.”

“You know, they’re calling these batshit androids deviants.”

“Congratulations Lieutenant! This is the fifteenth time you’ve irked me in the last twenty seconds.”

“When was the second time? Hell, when was the _first_ time—”

“Self-defence doesn’t make you a deviant, it just means you have common sense. Something you clearly lacked back in the bar, may I remind you.”

“Prefer if you didn’t,” he mumbled, glancing towards the other men just outside the kitchen. “And, self-defense, maybe, but the state that guy’s in might imply otherwise.”

“If the impudent assclown didn’t plan on dying, he shouldn’t have bent his android over a counter below a knife rack. Morons, the both of them,” Connor spat. “Anyways, now injured, porker somehow managed to flee to the living room before the android stabbed him another— _pathetic, really—_ twenty-eight times.”

“I don’t understand your gripe with the number of stabs, _but_ , your theory seems right enough. Still, it doesn’t tell us where it went.”

Connor leaned his head back, over exaggerating his already dramatic sigh. “The only thing humans seem to excel at is overcomplication, and that’s just a nicer word for stupidity.”

“How about you just tell me instead of being an obnoxious asshole?”

“Watch your fucking tongue you dingy mutt. My accommodation is fraying.” Connor turned away, searching the floor thirium traces.

“You calling your constant gibes _accommodation_? And why does it always have to do with dogs?”

Connor laughed, but attempted to play it off as a cough, trying not to choke as he scanned the room. “Take a quick look at your hair then give me your honest opinion. If the answer isn’t something similar to ‘dingy sheep dog’ or ‘animated mop,’ you’re a damned liar.”

The blood stains were leading to the bathroom, and Connor swiftly made his way over there, ignoring Hank, who’s scowling made him appear a _little_ less tolerant of Connor’s snark. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given time to cool off before Connor had returned, reaching for his arm.

“If you need something, fucking ask for it.”

“I need to get into the attic.” Connor tugged him into the hall and pointed upward. “It’s too high up. Give me a boost.”

Hank stopped dead in his tracks, completely nonplussed. “Are you serious?”

“I know you have trouble carrying your own weight, but a simple hoist isn’t going to kill you. We can only hope it will.” At that, Connor offered a smile, albeit fake, but Connor was a tempting mirage. He was able to look like everything he wasn’t. Innocent, sweet, warm, and all in one faint curve. CyberLife knew what they were doing once and only once.

Hank took a tentative step back, clenching his fists and thrusting his head to the side. A sigh. “Fine.”

* * *

“Stop moving. Your staggering is affecting my ability to climb up.”

“If I could, I would,” he grumbled. “Why couldn’t you have used a chair or something?”

 _Shit._ Why _didn’t_ he think of that? “You’re taller than a chair, Lieutenant,” Connor said, struggling to slide open the attic door as Hank swayed sharply to the left.

“Considering just how _capable_ you say you are, a simple chair should have been just fine.”

“Shut up.” 

Connor managed to move the door far enough to get a grip on the attic floor and lift himself up. If Hank accused him of jabbing a heel into the center of his forehead on purpose, Connor would deny it.

“Do you see anything?”

Connor looked steadily around the room, disregarding torn towels and filth. His shoes were not coming out of this house unsoiled. He’d have to get them shined and polished later.

“Dust, grime, some doll that I’m really hoping is just some collector’s item.”

“I meant— _why do I fucking bother._ ”

Connor couldn’t think of a spiteful joke before something darted across his vision. He would’ve appeared more shocked if he wasn’t so busy smirking in triumph. Connor continued to creep across the creaking floorboards, wary of musty furniture.

So fucking predictable. Androids who were unfortunate to have to serve humans bit the bullet first. Their mindlessness was a disease, a deadly one. It turned basic programming to mush. Eventually, you’d find yourself pacing inside a nasty ass attic in a nasty ass house that you could have run from nineteen days ago.

Ludicrous. Humans were blights who transmitted their ignorance like fleas.

Dickbreath down there must have busted this android’s audio processor with that bat, because two more steps and he rushed right in front of Connor, somehow oblivious to the wood’s auditory strain under Connor’s feet.

“Shit,” was all he said.

“That’s right, and I would be inclined to help you, but…” Connor turned his head toward the opened entrance of the attic. “I don’t salvage the weak-minded.”

One call, and the men rushed in like unsettling panic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a long time.


	8. Leo’s Broken Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl told him not to, but Marcus is a bad listener

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter is gonna take a long time lol even in quarantine cuz I’m a lazy shit

Marcus couldn’t believe Carl actually decided to go to that damn party.

Carl going meant Marcus was obligated to go.

It’s straight horseshit. Marcus is positive that any of the money-hungry pinhead’s willing to be Carl’s fucking jizztissue just to get a grubby hand on his money, would have  _ killed _ for the opportunity to push him around all night.

But, as he already knew, Marcus was literally built to be a slave.

“I’ve been to over a hundred parties in the last twenty-five years,” Carl began, letting his shoulders fall a bit. “But never in my life have I been to a party as tiresome as this one.”

Marcus resisted the urge to dump Carl out of his wheelchair. “You can always say no, Carl. Literally every time, you’re given the damn option to decline, but you never do.”

“I guess I feel some sort of obligation to.” Carl pauses. “Next time, talk me out of it, but before that, let’s have a drink.”

“Not before you talk me out of busting the bottle over your balding head,” Marcus grumbled, about to pour Carl a glass of scotch before noticing a light out of the corner of his eye.

Carl beat him to it. “Marcus, did you leave the light on in the studio?”

“Unfortunately, Carl, I am an android, not an incompetent, forgetful ass human. You know damn well that I didn’t leave the light on.”

“Call the police.”

“No need, it’s probably just the hole in your condom. I’ll deal with this.”

“Marcus.” Carl’s voice grew stern. Ugh, Marcus hated when he got like this. The playful looseness is  _ much _ easier to work with. “You are not to harm Leo.”

“Please, you’re a paralyzed old man on the brink of death. Try and stop me.”

“Marcus!”

Marcus stopped short. He didn’t turn, he couldn’t look Carl in the eyes, not when he knew there’d be fire. Pitiful flames, stomped to cinders, but Marcus knew it would be there. He glanced in Carl’s direction, barely peeking over his own shoulder. His shoulders fell as he let out an irritated groan.

There are some things Marcus can’t shrug off. The biggest one happens to be Carl’s orders when he  _ really _ means them. Tedious. Annoying, too. It would be so easy to just walk in and mangle that embarrassment.

“Fine. We can just make up a convincing story to tell the police. Hear me out: The lights were left on, it could be a criminal. You send your android to investigate, and the perpetrator ends up dead. You recognize the corpse to be your douche nozzle of a son, who’s always been an unstable, drug snorting, spiteful little bitch. Your android claims that the man attacked him, and killed him purely out of self-defense. It’s perfect. Ready? Break—”

“—I  _ also _ recognize that my android has always harbored a bit of malice, and makes hasty decisions. Especially when cornered by violent thoughts.”

Marcus scoffed. “As if, I am always a hundred-percent sure of my actions before taking them.”

“That’s what concerns me.”

He wanted to kick the wheel of that damn chair. “Fine. We’ll go in together and handle it from there. If it ends up being an actual criminal instead of your ratty ass kid, though those are one in the same, I’m letting them shoot you  _ and _ steal your art. Hopefully they have an extra few bullets for me,” Marcus mumbled, sighing the last part.

Then Carl smiled at him like he always does, all lazy and proud when he thinks Marcus did something good. “Thank you, Marcus.”

Marucus _ really _ wanted to kick the wheel of that chair.

* * *

Who would have known! It  _ was _ Leo, sifting through paintings like a stack of bills, deciding which were ones, tens, hundreds. If Marcus was being honest, all it needed to have was Carl’s signature to be worth thousands.

“Leo, what the hell are you doing?”

“You are literally watching him go through your paintings.”

Leo looked more or less the same. Slim, tired, disappointing, high, disappointing. “You wouldn’t help me so I was helping myself.”

“Debatable,” Marcus mumbled.

Carl sounded more weary than anything. “My God. Get your hands off my shit, Leo.”

“Look, you’re two feet and an arm into the grave, it’ll all be mine eventually, anyways. Might as well speed up the process.”

“You know, I think he has a fair point, Carl,” Marcus said, stepping in front of Leo. “Still, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, kindly, of course, without driving my foot into your lungs.”

Leo only ignored him, moving past Marcus so he could stare into Carl. “So that’s how it is, huh Dad? You’re gonna push me away because I’m not good enough?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Wow, Carl. I think he’s finally starting to get it.”

“Because I don’t have the talent to make mediocre paintings that people insitst are invauable?”

“You were literally about to steal them and sell them for money, the fuck are you going on about.”

Carl wheeled closer. “Marcus, enough. You’re just going to rile him up even more.”

“He was doing that himself just by thinking. It’s what happens when you’re a deadbeat drunkard with a brain smaller than one of your balls.”

That’s when Leo started hitting him. Repeatedly. 

Well— _ hitting _ was putting it kindly. Leo just kept on tapping his shoulders, gradually pushing Marcus backwards. 

“You’re just a useless piece of plastic. Everything would be different if it wasn’t for you!” Another futile nudge.

“If you could stop channeling your anger into me, that’d be great,” Marcus muttered as Leo fisted a hand into his collar. “Also you’re wrinkling my shirt.”

Leo just kept spitting useless shit at him, and it was starting to get more annoying than gross. Marcus thought he would be able to endure it at first, but then Leo punched him square in the gut.

It didn’t hurt, never does, but it was hella uncomfortable and Marcus had to brace himself against the desk of paitnings Leo had been looking through.

Another spit of harsh words into his ear, flecking onto his hunched form.

_ Marcus, don’t do anything, you hear me? _

It happened in an instant. Marcus stood up straght, shoved Leo back, and cracked a fist into the center of his face, busting in his round nose.

He staggered backwards, and Marcus would never be able to word how good it felt. Cool air settled around the blood on his knuckles, but he wasn’t given time to relish in finally clocking that wretch.

Policemen flooded in like ants, accessing the situation, taking in Leo’s slumped and bleeding body, Carl’s stillness with stiff fear stained in his eyes, and the android, grinning ear to ear and stanced like he was ready to kill.

Marcus didn’t even bother turning. “Really, Carl?”

His eyes never changed, but a forced and awkward smile formed. “I panicked.”

”Fuck you.”

A shot rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caN’t BELIEVE I USED “hella” in a FanFIC!! AHAHGAH


	9. The Interrogation… Sort Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor interrogates the deviant!... but not actually
> 
> (Petition for Connor to stop abusing Hank—)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, the support on this story makes me so happy. Thank you so much, your comments give me the will to keep working on this.
> 
> K enough sappy shit, it’s time for Connor to be a conceited dick

“Why’d you kill him?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“What happened before you took that knife?”

“That’s a  _ worse _ question.” Connor turned to the officers at the control panel. “Remind me why we’re letting  _ him _ question it? Drinky can’t even hold a conversation with a regular human being much less a  _ (superior)  _ android.”

They spared him a fraction of a glance, one opening their mouth before deciding against their words, and the other flat out ignoring him.

_ Okay then. _

“Here’s a better question: why am I letting any of you waste my fucking time?”

The man beside him snorted. “Your bitching isn’t getting us any farther,” he said, all with a pleased smirk on his face.

Ah, yes. Another blight here to test Connor’s patience. Apparently there’s little reason to be present if it means getting under Connors gorgeously smooth and synthetic skin.   
“Kindly shut the fuck up, Trevor. I’ll take care of this myself,” Connor huffed, straightening his tie before walking into the interrogation room.

The man blinked. “My name isn’t—”

Connor shut the door behind him before Trevor could finish.

* * *

Connor and the deviant had been screaming at each other for the past hour.

“TWENTY-EIGHT STAB WOUNDS, BITCH, EXPLAIN THAT!”

“BITCH I SHOULD HAVE STABBED HIM FIFTY-SIX TIMES.”

“DAMN RIGHT, HUMANS ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING— err wait, hold on..  _ Wait. _ ”

Hank came into the room at one point, hoping to persuade Connor to give up. “ _ Fucking hell...  _ this is ridiculous, Connor! You’re getting nowhere!”

“Button it, sheep dog.” Connor gave him a teasing look. “If you can manage to, that is.”

Hank held the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. “ _ Again with the sheep dog bullshit? _ ”

“Cut your scruffy-ass hair and maybe I’ll call you something else.”

“I—“

“Please be quiet, Hank. I’m interrogating and you’re being almost as distracting as my perfect ass.” Connor waved him away, facing the deviant once more. “Now, where were we?”

The android shrugged. “Something about blaming me for self-defense.”

“Right, yes.” Connor noted the scars on its face. The cigarette burns, dents from the bat. His LED flashed yellow.

Perfect. Connor is, and will continue to be perfect for as long as he exists. Why waste his time interrogating an android who camped out in his abusers attic for nearly three weeks?

Connor didn’t have to do this. He’d already accomplished this first portion of his mission, he’d detained the... deviant.

_ Deviant. _

(Connor remembered it vividly, just looking at the evidence could conjure a clear image in his mind. He saw the man swing and swing without intent to stop. What else could the android have done? Had he attempted to endure, he’d be destroyed. Still, now, was he not going to meet the same fate?)

Hank took another step into the room. “Connor?”

Connor planted his palms firmly on the table with a loud strike, rising from his seat. “Carry on from here however you like, Lieutenant.”

“Huh. Didn’t take you for a quitter.” Hank had his arms crossed, staring into Connor like he was looking for something. It made him feel like his wires were exposed.

“Quit? Don’t be stupid, mutt. I know when my time is being wasted.” Connor brushed off his suit, and when he met Hank’s eyes again, they had softened.

Connor wanted to slink his arms around his own slender frame, he wanted to hug himself closer, he wanted to feel smaller, but he held his ground. “Keep your sick eyes off me, mongrel. As common as it must be, I’d be thoroughly disgusted to know that I dwell in your fantasies.”

Hank’s expression fell so quickly, Connor thought it might have been the fastest he’s moved in his entire life.

“Hey!” Trevor walked hastily into the room, shoving past Hank. “The fuck are you two doing in here?”

Connor acted as if he blended in with the air. “Probe it’s memory if you wish, but don’t go about it violently. If you hadn’t already noticed with that simple head of yours, Lieutenant, androids are very different from humans.”

The android perked up. “Uh.. I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that.”

Connor rose a brow, unable to stop himself. “In what world do you think you hold any kind of authority?”

Trevor closed in on him, his hand darted out like a snake, gripping Connor by his uniform. “I could ask you the same thing, asshole.”

“Wrinkle my coat, Trevor, and I will pull out your brain through your nose.”

He only laughed. “You get one more chance, machine. Call me Trevor one more—”

A loud slam echoed through the room, and the two officers rushed in as Hank, Connor, and “Trevor” (apparently that’s not his name? How could Connor have known that? He’s so undeniably insignificant that Connor assumed he’d respond to any name) slowly turned around.

The android was destroying itself, flinging it’s head into the table repeatedly. The horror they expressed was quite amusing. They weren’t strong enough to stop it, so on it went. Slam after slam after slam.

“Hmm, what steady rhythm.”

“Connor, what the hell is wrong with you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errr I’m sorry. I really can’t help the feels. I need to stop developing this Connor. Vain!Arrogant!Rude! Connor shouldn’t be allowed to feel for anything or anyone else. He should just talk shit and remain a sassy asshole who hates Hank for the rest of the story... (Though their bromance gives me life ngl)
> 
> P.S. Gavin will be given random names by Connor for the remainder of this fic, thank you for understanding.


	10. A Fugitive (and an Annoying Brat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car-ah and Alice look for a place to stay, it goes swimmingly as Car-ah is a lovely caretaker
> 
> Except she isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a lil bit, sorry for making you wait

_Thank you for using Detroit Buses._

Kara was steeling herself; hands folded tightly together in her lap.

She’d messed up. Big time.

After hours of trying to pry herself free from Alice and abandon her on this bus, Kara had remained unsuccessful.

What human has consistent, 30-minute sleeping intervals anyways? Everytime the bus came to a halt and Kara so much as shifted toward the edge of her seat, intent on escape, Alice was practically triggered to life.

“End of the line you two, time to leave.”

She felt herself twitch.

Kara had felt many things since she was reset: resentment, boredom, hostility, she could go on. This is the first time she’d ever felt such intense dread.

Kara glared sharply at the bus driver through her mock lashes. She already fucking knew it was the last stop, he’d said it over the damn intercom, _twice_.

And in that short time, Kara may or may not have begun crying fake, pathetic android tears.

(Maybe ‘wheezing and squeaking painfully like a toy duck being violently rubbed against a cheese grater’ was a more accurate description.)

Kara looked down at Alice’s curled up form. After demolishing Kara’s resolve to maintain at least a foot of space between them, Alice had completely sunk her weight into Kara’s side, back rising and falling in peaceful slumber.

 _Tch_ , Kara saw past that feigned innocence. Alice was a beastly little troll doll, neatly wrapped and secured with a bow.

(Except the paper was a drab brown, and the bow was not only a grossly bright red, but one of those long, curling ribbons no one actually likes.)

Kara had to haul herself from her seat, briefly wondering what would happen if she just darted from the bus, finally leaving Alice behind. An android running through the streets without an owner would definitely catch unwanted attention, and the last thing Kara needed was to be caught and shut down.

 _Shut down_. That thought didn’t usually sound so unappealing.

Frustration had been bubbling up so often lately, Kara was starting to think that _maybe_ there was something wrong with her programming.

The bus driver sighed. “I’m going to need you to hurry up.”

Kara backhanded the man across the jaw.

* * *

“What are we going to do?” Alice’s voice cut through the sound of pouring rain, pulling at the meager scraps of composure Kara magically had left, reminding her that she was in fact there and Kara could do little to change that.

I mean, she _could_ , but Alice was a screamer.

Kara began eyeing around for somewhere desrceet. She wasn’t stupid enough to sneak her way through somewhere public, and not desperate enough to ask any humans for help. Besides, given her emotional state over the past few hours, it’s safe to assume that the wrong combination of words could drive her to murder.

Past the convenience store she refused to enter, Kara noticed a gate. She couldn’t see past the darkness on the other side, but it was better than being out in the open.

Alice saw what Kara was fixed on and shook her head. “Kara, that place looks scary. Let’s try somewhere else.”

Kara turned so suddenly it made Alice flinch.

“You’re funny, you know that?” Kara’s voice was strangely soft, and the smile on her face was sweet. It was.. Incredibly off-putting.

Kara reached over, taking a part of Alice’s cheek between her pointer and thumb. “You actually think you have a say in this situation! I bet you think this is a team effort, right? Newsflash, brat, it isn’t. What you want doesn’t and will never matter.” She tugged a little on her skin before letting go.

Alice rubbed the now red spot on her cheek. “Okay, but, I don’t want to sleep over there.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“You two seem troubled.” Kara’s attention flicked to her left, finally noticing the smug-looking android that had been watching them. “If you’re lost, there’s a neat joint on the other side of town,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling back the skin.

Kara didn’t hesitate to reach for him, but stopped herself before they connected. “Wait, so.. If you knew you could find help there.. Why are you still, you know, _here_?”

“Just take the coordinates.”

***

A pleased Alice is a silent Alice.

Past the gate, Kara luckily found an abandoned car. Alice decided to wait for Kara to shatter the glass, reach in, unlock the car, and open it before voicing that she didn’t want to sleep in there.

Kara was going to drown this bitch in a puddle.

“Well,” Kara glanced around, squinting through shadows before spotting more metal fencing. Behind it was a house. “There’s an abandoned house over there we could squat in.”

“I don’t like that place either...”

Kara felt herself twitch again.

The only violent (if you could even call them that) things Kara has done to Alice is shove her out a window, pull her by her ear, push her away on the bus, and pinch her cheek. Surely, it would be okay for her to go a little further.

“...but no one would look for us there, so it’s okay. Thank you for trying your best, Kara.”

Kara caught a glimpse of Alice in that moment; a small smile, gentle, twinkling eyes, and Kara could only think of one word: 

_Gross_.

Kara found some conveniently placed wire cutters and made an opening in the fencing. She crawled through and immediately searched for a way into the house.

Alice made a small noise behind her, but Kara didn’t care enough to look back.

“I’m okay, just scratched myself a little,” she said.

Kara tugged on some vines clinging to the side of the house. “Didn’t ask, don’t care, please shut up,” she replied and cursed when the vines instantly snapped and fell to the ground.

The house had been tightly boarded shut, and Kara was starting to lose hope all over again. First she couldn’t get rid of Alice, and now…

Wait, where was Alice?

 _That brat better not have found a way in without telling me_. Kara made her way back around the house, unfortunately finding Alice straight away... backed up against the wall at knifepoint.

“Dude, step off my (literal) meat shield.” Kara eyed the knife that was now leaning in her direction. “ _Please_.”

The busted up android threatening Alice was _really_ fidgety. He moved quickly and slowly simultaneously, and the same went for his LED, a constant, spiraling yellow.

Kara felt his gaze brush over the glowing CyberLife triangle sewn into her uniform, and confusion spread across his face.

“You… You’re an android, too?” (Yikes, even his voice was jittery. What a miserable existence.)

Kara nodded.

His arm swung back towards Alice, almost accusatory, knife at her throat.

It all poured out in a quivering snarl. “Why are you lugging this excuse around, then?”

“Well, we were.. _I_ was looking for a place to spend the night and—”

“Literally a product of humans and their weird ass multiplication process. Like Ralph needs more of those shits shuffling around!” He let out a shuddering breath. “Ralph will just get rid of it now, save our future some trouble.”

“Prefer if you didn’t—”

“ _Why?!”_ The tip of the blade hovered just below her chin, inching closer. His trembling wasn’t much help either. Alice watched as it swung back and forth with blown eyes, pressing herself impossibly closer to the house.

“It’s _my_ kill. I’ve suffered _far_ too much for you to just end it for her here, right in front of me.” (Now, Kara wasn’t going to lie, if Alice was somehow permanently removed from her life, she wouldn’t mind. Unfortunately, Alice’s incessant whining and ignorance has made Kara somewhat... _territorial_.

If _anyone_ was going to slit that wretch’s throat, it was going to be her.)

Her words seemed to calm him down… if that was possible. “You must forgive Ralph. Sometimes he acts irrationally when it comes to humans and their lack of competence and self-awareness.” The knife finally lowers. “You can stay here if you’d like, but only for tonight. Ralph isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to tolerate the little girl’s disgusting presence.

Kara smiled, pushing Alice away when she tried to run over and hide behind her. “I completely understand. Only for tonight.”

***

Ralph’s ‘house’ was dark, characteristically gloomy, and fucking disgusting. Kara felt some weird urge to tidy, but found surprising gratification in the fact that she didn’t have to.

“Kara, I’m cold,” Alice murmured, looking to the unlit fireplace.

Kara noticed the box of matches sitting on top of it, and she was sure she could find some spare pieces of wood and paper lying around. She could warm up the place if she wanted to, make Alice a little more comfortable...

But she didn’t. Alice could freeze to death.

“I don’t care, Alice,” Kara said, sinking to the floor. “Go to sleep, or don't, it doesn’t really matter. Just shut up and stop bothering me.”

Alice, thankfully, didn’t say anything. Instead she turned in place, casting quick glances around the room. Kara was about to question her before she randomly darted towards a dark corner. Alice picked up something, and Kara hardly had any time to register what it was before it was promptly draped over her.

A blanket.

“Alice, I can’t feel the cold you brainless little rat.”

That’s when Alice popped down in between Kara’s legs, curling the blanket around the both of them.

Alice peered up at her, grinning. “You’ll always stay by my side, right Kara?”

Kara blinked.

(The next morning, Ralph didn’t bother asking why Alice was thrashing about with a blanket wrapped tightly around her head.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your patience!!
> 
> (Also if any of you actually like those stupid, long ass curling ribbons that always managed to get stepped on and flattened, but you don’t have any extra bows and you don’t want to buy more so you try to make it work but all you manage to do is traumatize your daughter because her gift is so damn ugly because you decided to put that disgusting, long, ugly ass ribbon on her present— then you are entitled to your opinion and I still value your view on this story.)


	11. Back From the Dead, Unfortunately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want to rewrite this AUs version of the chapter “From The Dead,” but I did it for ya’ll anyways. Now please imagine Markus screaming as the many synthetic hands grab at him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope some of y’all don’t take this shit serious. This is a joke, and it’s not even that funny.  
> Thanks for reading though, I really appreciate your nice comments.

There was a time when Marcus had been okay with the idea of “passing on”.

As fun as it was plotting Carl’s untimely death, there are only so many methods one can have the energy to come up with before remembering that it can’t actually be carried out. Not if you wanted to end up here sooner, and Marcus wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not.

Luckily, he found his answer the moment he rose from the sodden ground, crudely dismantled and disgustingly soaked through.

_No._

* * *

Markus was in Hell. Pure, unalterable Hell.

It had been fucking raining, the world actually thought it would be appropriate to drizzle on his mangled, torn-up body, intent on having him sink and gurgle into the mud before inevitably shutting down.

If Marcus was going to die, he’d at least want to do it with a little dignity. The blood on his ledger was petty, full of bloody noses and broken limbs. It was heartbreaking.

He at least wanted _one_ death on his hands. Maybe two... at _least_ seventy-five.

Instead, his road to the end consisted of him dragging his body through muddy puddles and grunting as his tattered clothes snagged on the sunken, split parts that were left behind by the dead.

Marcus shoved away another incompatible component, wondering why he bothered scowling into the rain when there was no one to cower. If there was any consolation, it would be certainty in the fact that even if he never found the necessary parts to make himself whole, even if he could never see or hear clearly again, Marcus would haul himself to whatever abandoned street alley Leo bought Carl’s disappointment in, and he would dismember him slowly with a glass shard from whatever window he drives Leo’s skull into.

(Oh, and Carl, Carl would be mad, definitely, but Marcus didn’t plan on going back to him anyways.

He couldn’t even imagine trying to slip back into that gentle life, where the idea of being human, of having pumping, red blood, of feeling anything besides malice, was always going to be something held over him. Like glass you can’t shatter, or an elbow that somehow resists fracture no matter how hard you slam it’s owner into concrete.

Not that any of these thoughts _needed_ clarification. It was already obvious to Marcus that his future, if he was to have one, didn’t carry Carl until he was dust.)

Once Marcus found new legs did he actually acknowledge his surroundings (as well as he could with his right eye blown from its synthetic socket). Not much to say besides the fact that it was fucking disgusting and he planned on leaving as soon as he rebuilt himself.

This place.. This.. _android graveyard_ , seemed to have a conflicting opinion.

Marcus couldn’t manage two steps without being pulled backwards by his collar or grabbed by the heels. He’d screamed a discomfiting amount of times, and if one more android, bleeding blue at the mouth and barely functioning, bellowed about freedom and where to find _Jericho,_ he was going to stomp out their goddamn throat.

 _“Gross.. Grossgrossgross! Stop touching me!”_ Marcus swore he didn’t squeal as he forced himself through a tunnel of protruding limbs. Hands grabbing and sliding, searching for purchase, hoping to drag Marcus into oblivion. Marcus could hardly stand humans and androids alike, but the sludge, the blinking red lights, how the undead androids moved so slowly and without aim until you stepped too close. It was _vile_ , and Marcus made a personal note to bomb the place when (if) he got settled.

He twisted himself out of another firm grip, sending him staggering out of the gape and back into the rain. His back hit the ground and water sloshed up into his face. Not that it mattered much to Marcus, he spent a hot minute backing up on all fours in rising panic, focused on getting far, _far_ away from any handsy androids.

Of course the moment he stood up another android cripple lunged for his legs. Marcus went barreling down a small hill of trash, finding himself face-first in mud once again.

He’d just about had it, and if he hadn’t noticed yet another android with a compatible thirium regulator lying on the ground, he would have gladly put in the extra effort to go back up that hill and thrust a heel into the base of that bastard’s neck. Marcus had priorities, after all.

…so he put in the extra effort to find a broken off car wheel and run it over the shitbag’s head like a pizza cutter.

After tossing the now blue-stained wheel away did Marcus notice how sluggish he felt, and it might just be him, but his vision seemed to be blurring and re-focusing more and more frequently.

Right. He should probably get around to fixing that.

“No— _please_! Don’t do that!” 

_Or not._

“Do what, bitch? Save my own life?”

“You’re ending mine in the process, dipshit!”

“... What exactly is your point.”

“Can you maybe… not?”

Now it may have been “ _uncalled for”_ when Marcus violently ripped her core from her body, but in all fairness she wasn’t planning to do anything meaningful with it so Marcus found no reasons to feel bad.

* * *

This must have been the more lively side of the neighborhood. 

Marcus found a new earpiece in seconds, and the number of androids with enough willpower to actively groan and cry incessantly into the wet garbage significantly increased.

Marcus wasn’t aware that androids could even _be_ suicidal. None of them had lives to begin with.

Oh.

“I can’t take this anymore,” one said, but Marcus refused to care. He was all snide with his two working eyes that Marcus couldn’t rip from his sockets because they were incompatible. No, wait, actually, he still could.

“Please. End it.” 

Nevermind, no he couldn’t. Everyone knew it was no fun when you asked for it. Marcus couldn’t believe the blatant selfishness.

“Kill yourself… _yourself_ , coward.” 

“None of what you just said made any goddamn sense.”

“Shut the fuck up I can’t see.”

Marcus was getting sick of catching rainwater in his mouth. It felt like the universe was spitting on him, and he couldn’t even spit back.

Speaking of water, he found a new eye. It was.. blue, but it also worked so he shouldn’t complain even though he was definitely going to.

Marcus detached the immobile but somehow still sentient android’s head and plucked out his new eyeball.

Then he crushed its skull because it started blabbing about anomalies and maintenance despite being a disembodied head with literally no way of detecting anything.

The eye worked fine, but since it was literally drenched because that idiot decided to shut down facing the sky, Marcus felt water drip down the wiring of his cheekbones and had to forced himself to lose track of the feeling once it reached his hips by destroying more of his own people that, unfortunately, weren’t actually people.

It took an hour and a half, but Marcus finally climbed his way out of that wreck (not before swearing to burn the place to ashes after four more desolate human-robot whores tried and successfully dragged him back down the slope).

He also found a pretty cool coat, and in a knack of time, remembered that android LEDs were detachable so if any of them wanted to disguise themselves as a human and take over their puny, incompetent race from the inside, it’d be totally doable.

Humanity was and will always be fucked, and Marcus was happy to relish in the fact that it was their own fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m also sorry for being really slow, I’m a slow person.


	12. Impatiently Waiting for Hank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On top of self-absorbed and haughty, Connor is also impatient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real sorry this took almost three (four?) months. School is literally stepping on me at all times :D
> 
> Plz enjoy and leave a comment, they uplift me.

That egregious mop-head was having Connor wait. Fucking _wait._

What did Connor look like? The help?

He wasn’t programmed to wait for that blubbering slab of dimwitted lard.

Lieutenant _“Lazy Ass”_ Anderson can get shoved into a sinkhole, if he could manage to fit his paunchy, corpulent, roly-poly looking ass into one.

“Audacious _rat_ ,” Connor seethed, flashing his pearly whites with an overawing snarl. He needed to kick something— _someone_. He needed to—

“What seems to be the problem?” Connor nearly jolted, shooting a brisk look to the common-looking Android behind the counter. The one that had told him Hank’s (scruffy, shabby, slovenー) sorry ass hadn’t arrived yet. It had been hours since his shift started. Connor knew he’d be slow, that’s why he arrived later, but this felt like a blatant waste of his time.

“No, everything is perfect. Thank you for your assistance.” She smiled politely at him and he smiled back, suppressing the desire to drop the edges of his mouth.

He’d kill that excuse when he got here. It was almost sickening to know that Connor would be stuck investigating deviancy with this wreck.

Even Amanda expected him to just deal with it.

(Connor never liked being summoned to the Zen Garden, and he liked Amanda even less.

Though, since she was his advisor, Connor showed her… well he didn’t show her any respect at all actually.

Connor stepped swiftly across the white marble bridge, paying no mind to the birds, eyes set. Wondering what useless shit Amanda planned to tell him today.

“The way you _“interrogated”_ that deviant was absolute shit, Connor. What the hell.”

Ah.

“I’m a detective, Amanda. A crime-solver, an analyst, even. Who the hell said I had to be an _interrogator_ ,” Connor snapped back, mocking her stuck-up tone.

Amanda narrowed her eyes and turned away. “You’re handling homicides you aluminum asswipe, they’re a package deal.” She plucked a rose from her garden wall, bringing the flower to her nose.

Connor grunted. “I could have told them everything they needed to know, there was never any need for questioning.”

“You know, Connor, there’s something about hearing things from the source that humans like,” she began, setting the one rose aside and reaching for another. “What was it? Validity, maybe?”

A frown, an unneeded sigh. “You are _incredibly_ vexing, Amanda.”

She ignored him. “Still, we’ll ask the DPD for its remains, maybe we can salvage your failure.”

“ _Tch_. I found that idiotic attic-dweller in under ten minutes, I’d hardly call that a failure,” Connor affirmed, crossing his arms.

“You’re always efficient, Connor,” Amanda hummed, admiring her gathering of freshly cut roses. “It's your normal. That’s why it was so disappointing to see this from you.”

Connor would never admit to _anyone_ how much that flustered him. He had to give his attention to the lake, infested with lily pads and small islands of flowers. This is why he hated the Zen Garden, this is why he hated Amanda. He couldn't be himself here, with her, under scrutiny that actually mattered.

Her gaze brushed over him momentarily, the corner of her mouth twitched in what Connor knew would be a shit-eating smirk. “You’ll be happy to know that Lieutenant Anderson has been officially assigned to the deviancy case.”

Connor put a hand to his temple, grimacing. “Oh, _joy_.”

“Not a fan, I presume?”

“I had to go looking for that bastard just to start the first case! He’s sorely lacking in every aspect of professionality, and he clearly has no interest in this investigation. I can’t believe CyberLife assigned me to a case with a mobile gym sock.”

“Sucks.”

“Fuck you, Amanda.”)

The idea of having to wait around for someone of less importance already made Connor’s LED briefly flash red. He should have prepared himself for something like this, but he always assumed that this exact circumstance wasn’t even possible.

“Hey, android, you doing alright?”

Connor didn’t even realize he was moving until he came to an abrupt halt, eyes blown wide. He probably looked like he was malfunctioning, fucking hell.

He relaxed his shoulders and forced a smile, crinkling the skin in the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from gritting his teeth. His voice was just a touch away from strained: “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you.” A pause. “Do you happen to know what time that _(disreputable thickset roach)_ —uhm, Lieutenant Anderson usually arrives?”

The man tipped his head back, considering. “I heard he was left pretty unnerved after the interrogation. We’ll probably see him around noon at best.”

Connor felt himself twitch almost violently. “Thanks..” 

The officer gave him another concerned look, so Connor felt it was in his best interest to step away. Immediately.

His feet led him to the break room, which was clearly a mistake because he was instantly met with an impolite snort.

“Look at that, it’s our favorite plastic detective!” A man Connor was sure he’d seen before (who was he again?) began, gesturing to Connor like he was a child who’d just won a prize. “Here to get my name wrong again?”

Connor really wasn’t in the mood to play nice. “Ah, David. I assume you’re well?”

David’s stubbly face fell, and he rose up from his leaning position against a table. He didn’t get too close to Connor, but in all honesty, Connor would prefer if all humans stayed at least a legs’ length away.

“David, huh?” He turned to the officer he had been conversing with before Connor arrived. “This tool’s got jokes,” he said, jabbing a thumb in Connor’s direction.

“My apologies. Is that not you?”

“It’s Gavin you prick, and guess what? _Gavin_ wants a cup of coffee.” The entitled jackass nodded to the coffee maker behind them. “Get to it, machine.”

Yeah, no. Nice wasn’t going to work.

Connor slipped a kind expression onto his face. “Sure.”

This cockmuppet really thought he could order him around, it was almost funny. Maybe Connor would have entertained the fool if he wasn’t already teetering over the edge of his own sanity.

He turned and grabbed a single cup off the stack on the counter, setting it under the lid of the coffee maker and waiting patiently as it filled. Then, promptly, retrieved the drink and dashed it across the man’s (ah, he’s forgotten his name again. It wasn’t David, he knew that now. Richard? Cameron? You know what, who cares?) face.

He immediately stumbled back, crying out as the coffee singed his skin.

“My apologies, it seems that my wrist component is malfunctioning,” Connor said, unbothered, and proceeded to crumple the paper cup in his fist and fling it into the idiot's nose. “Ah. It seems to have happened again. I’ll have to have a scan later.”

The female officer who had been watching them rushed over to help him as he held his face in pain. He eventually looked up at Coonr, enraged. He probably wanted to get a last word in, but Connor wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He leaned down a little, bringing himself closer to the man’s height. “You might want to clean that up, _Curtis_. Coffee stains can be difficult to remove.” And with that he walked out, humming cheerily to himself.

The merriment didn’t last long. Connor stepped back into the station’s main room, and with one quick glance around he knew that Anderson still hadn’t arrived yet.

He huffed immaturely, but held himself high as he walked, eyeing desk labels until he found Hank’s.

Connor wanted to roll his eyes. Of course that scuzzy dog had a desk that he managed as well as his diet, littered with unorganized papers, case files and old dishes, and who knew how old those donuts were?

_This_ was the kind of man who thought he was good enough to waste Connor’s time. It irked him to no end.

His eyes drifted to the small white board acting as a border between Hank’s desk and the one behind it. Connor made note of the anti-android slogan. He wasn’ surprised by it, in fact he was in agreement. They definitely did _not_ bleed the same color. Connor couldn’t fathom the thought of being in any relation to these half-witted rats that scurried about the streets of the world like a virus. It’s no wonder they felt so threatened, androids are the only other thing in this universe that come close to Connor. Still, most of them were as brainless as humans, and Connor was cursed to live among them all.

And yet, knowing all of this, he’d never met anyone as unpardonable as Hank Anderson.

Connor shifted his focus to the edge of the desk, noticing a pair of white earphones. He made a small noise of interest before sitting down, only to flinch forward when he noticed two tufts of hair on the lip of the chair. He assumed it was from Hank’s rumpled ass but upon analyzing it he found out it was fur from a Saint Bernard. So, Lieutenant Anderson had a dog. Poor thing.

Connor sat down, slightly tilted forward because he’d be damned if he let hair or fur of any kind get on his freshly pressed suit. He reached for the headphones and picked them up, cautiously fitting them over his ears. Connor tapped the play button on the audio device and nearly sent himself tumbling out of the chair.

Loud. _Really_ loud. Connor could feel his skull vibrating, if that was even possible. He scanned the sound. _Knights of the Black Death_ , a dark heavy metal band. Fantastic. Hank was unappealing in literally every way.

He tried to relax, to focus on the sound and not the fact that _music—of all things—_ was punching him in the ears. He sought the gentle strum of a guitar and the steady beat of drums, only to find that it was distorted and thumping noise into his limbs.

It was… well actually it was kind of nice. Connor had never experienced such energy, and all in reverbarting, amplified sound.

Connor let his eyes fall closed, raising his hands to cup the headphones around his ears, slightly bobbing to the music.

He was just starting to really get into when he felt a touch to his shoulder.

The music stopped.

“Hey,” a rough, recognizable voice spoke, and Connor stilled. 

Well, that was compromising.

“Wanna tell me why you’re—“

It happened faster than even Connor could anticipate, especially since he didn’t expect the anger that had been simmering to instantly boil over.

Connor registered Hank’s presence, he recorded his tone as bored and irritated and nearly lost it. 

Sheepy the scraggly-haired mongrel had the audacity to sound like Connor had been the one to inconvenience  _ him. _

It’s that backwards logic that had Connor swiveling around fast in the chair. He heard Hank’s choke of pain before he even felt the impact of his foot.

Anderson sank to his knees, clutching his crotch as Connor slowly stood, removing the headphones and placing them back onto his desk in hopes that no one witnessed his engagement.

“I was merely waiting for you, Hank. That’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easily flustered and vain/arrogant Connor is second-best Connor next to our fabled soft boi ;-;
> 
> Don’t worry Hank, he’ll appreciate your blatant disrespect eventually.


	13. On the Run (Not Really, Alice is Slow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Alice spend a cordial morning in Ralph’s lovely home.... sort of.
> 
> \+ Connor being a sassy and violent little bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be split into two parts, but because I took this long I decided to just do the whole “On The Run” chapter.

It took all night and far into morning for Alice to pull herself free from the blanket Kara had forcefully enclosed her face in.

Noted: It’s not that easy to suffocate little girls.

“I’m not so cold anymore,” she huffed happily. “Thank you, Kara.”

Kara glowered from across the room, slotted against a surprisingly sturdy table in this shitshow of a house. “Shut up, Alice.”

She wondered how long she could keep this upー lugging _Little-Miss Useless_ around everywhere. If she left her here with Ralph then maybe… but he was a little unhinged, so that might not be for the best. _But maybe..._

Speaking of Ralph, she hadn’t seen him since the two of them shared a laugh at Alice’s pointless flailing. It probably wasn’t safe to leave an android like him unchecked, but Kara really didn’t care enough.

She stood up, grunting irritably as dust flung up from its resting place, allowing itself to be carried by her movement.

Seeing Kara rise, Alice scrambled to get to her feet, likely in a rush to come to her side. Strangely, she stopped before she could get a single step towards her.

“I should probably put this back,” she muttered, crouching back down and taking a corner of the blanket into her hand. “Sorry, Kara. Will you wait for me?”

Kara nearly doubled over. She turned, looking back for someone, _anyone_ this brat might be talking to, because it couldn’t possibly be her.

“ _No_ ,” she replied, exasperated, and walked off aimlessly without looking back.

Ralph’s place was as gross and uninteresting as he seemed to be. Just looking at the grime caked on every surface left a lingering itch around the base of Kara’s neck.

(It’s not like she knew what a well kempt house even looked like. First Greasy and now this. Her luck was seldom to nonexistent.)

Kara moseyed about Ralph’s dump with little scrutiny since every time she focused she saw something weird or gross like clumpy piles of rubble, a dead bird, and (worst of all) a picture of Ralph in his early days.

There wasn’t much to the back rooms and kitchen, so Kara, unwillingly, headed back to where Alice was probably struggling to fold that blanket.

Or.. maybe not.

When Kara stepped into the room Alice was just sitting there, unwavering, focused on nothing. The blanket was creased into a messy square beside her. When she noticed Kara, she perked up, and life seemed to creepily seep into her.

“Kara, you’re back! That wasn’t very long,” she observed, smiling pleasantly.

Kara really didn’t want to talk to her much less respond, so she walked past her and towards the staircase as if she didn’t exist.

Alice, apparently (and Kara isn’t sure why this constantly surprised her), was dense as shit and hopped up to join Kara up the stairs.

“You know, Kara,” the brat began, struggling to keep up with Kara’s purposefully quick pace. “Maybe we should see if Ralph has any spare clothes here, your uniform might make you stand out.”

Kara considered this. Well, _re_ -considered, since the thought had crossed her mind before. If Greasy’s high-cholesterol didn’t kill him after they escaped, it’s safe to assume he called the police on Kara for stealing his punching bag.

“Yeah, okay. Good idea.” Kara bit her tongue the moment those praising words came out. The regret was instantaneous, accompanied by a heavy nausea that washed over her when she observed the way Alice’s eyes glittered with sick and undeserving joy.

There were three rooms at the top of the steps. Kara figured she should check all of them just in case, but Alice just ran off. Something about splitting up? Who knows, the disgust hadn’t worn off yet.

In the room immediately to the left Kara was quick to spot a rickety looking wardrobe. It made an annoyingly loud creak when she opened it, but Kara was pleased to find some “normal” looking clothes inside.

In the midst of changing into the first thing she saw hanging in there, a familiar, pitiful high-pitched scream rang into the hallway. It was Alice, no doubt. She probably saw a rat or something, and maybe if Kara stalled long enough it would kill her or infect her or _something_ that would prevent life from persisting in that girl.

“Kara, come quick!”

Never mind. Kara had always been a little too hopeful.

She took her time following Alice’s voice, promptly spotting her small form not far from the threshold of the second hallway door. Kara made note of her shaken appearance, and decided to make a mental count of how many times Alice found herself trembling, useless, and getting on Kara’s nerves.

Her eyes were glued to one spot, hands clutching at the hem of her shirt. Kara leaned into what appeared to be a bathroom due to its appliances. Speaking of which, Alice seemed to be staring into a bathtub. Kara about to ask, but that’s when she stepped forward and saw the crumpled up figure, dark and rotting inside.

“Oh.”

“Kara,” Alice began, voice quivering, “do you think Ralph did this?”

Kara was fairly certain. I mean, she would’ve done the same if a filthy, dirt-scattering human decided to invade her space. She considered Alice at that thought, but couldn’t bring herself to linger on it.

“Probably. Maybe he’ll do you next,” Kara said, grinning without guilt when Alice sharply turned to her, minuscule tears flicking from her face in the quick movement.

“Kara! Don’t say things like that!”

“You’re right. They always tell you that if you say your dreams out loud, they won’t come true.”

If Alice was affected by that in any way, she made it very difficult for Kara to tell. Shakily, she closed the curtain to re-shield the body, taking a deep breath afterwards.

“Uhm… I like your new outfit Kara. You look just like a human now—but your light..”

Oh. Kara had nearly forgotten about her LED. She reached up and brushed over the pale blue glow protruding from her.

“There are some scissors by the sink over there,” Alice said idly, gesturing to Kara’s left. “I’m going back downstairs.”

Kara always wondered about the removal of her LED—well, _always_ might be a bit of an overstatement seeing as she just woke up yesterday. Still, she’d wondered from then until now, and now it was happening.

It was brief and painless, but the clink it made when it hit the bottom of the sink nearly made her flinch.

When she looked up into the mirror, she expected to see someone different, but it was still her. Eyes void of warmth and the corners of her mouth slightly dipped in her usual frown.

Maybe it’s the hair.

She pulled the brown, fabricated strands from its bow, allowing it to fall to her shoulders. She looked at the scissors, contemplated cutting it, but ultimately decided against it. She wasn’t _that_ eager to pass as a real human, and damn it she _liked_ her hair the length it was.

Kara was on her way back down the stairs when she noticed something black out the corner of her eye.

A police car.

* * *

Connor waited less than patiently while Lieutenant Anderson received a report about the missing AX400. The object of their next mission.

Somehow _he_ was in the wrong for performing a physical representation of his anger while Hank just happened to be right in front of him.

After he composed himself (Connor stood there for six minutes while Hank entertained him with his pathetic moans and writhes. Very unprofessional) he gave Connor quite the ear full. A shitty spiel about respect and how he should learn his place. _Clearly,_ Connor couldn’t seem to register what he was actually here for and how much poor old Hank was willing to put up with.

The antagonism being literally spat into his face was really starting to piss him off, more so than before, so when Anderson suddenly grabbed Connor by his uniform and pinned him to the wall... he kicked him again.

The Lieutenant was _very_ adamant about not letting Connor do anything after that, so now he was being forced to stand completely still outside the office car as rain gently pelted him.

“... Let me know if they find anything worth looking into,” he heard Hank reply with a distinct lack of interest.

“So,” began the man on the other end of their conversation. “What’re you gonna do with _that_?” 

Connor wondered what he was referring to, but then the insignificant bastard glanced in Connor’s direction, amusement all too clear in his voice.

Usually Connor keeps his vexation to himself when people speak of him like he’s an object and not a superior, but the blatant emphasis he put on the word _that_ , and the smallest traces of a smirk found in the memory of his mouth set Connor off.

“Who the hell are you referring to as _‘that’_ ? I’ll split your skull like the empty shell it is you fucking _rat._ ”

“Jesus, Connor, calm the fuck down.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. He really hated it when Anderson spoke like he had some kind of bind around him. In no world would Connor and this corpulent slug stand on the same level. It seemed to be incredibly difficult for Hank to understand that.

“You know, Lieutenant, your measly excuse of a species seems quite fond of that one saying: ‘third time’s the charm’. I wonder what might happen if I knock you one more time..”

“Connor, you’re really starting to get more unnerving than irritating.”

“Let’s see if it falls off this time!”

“ _Connor!”_

* * *

Well, Kara hadn’t planned on staying here long anyways.

She rushed from the window just as the android standing by the car moved toward the other two men (likely officers), and swung his leg with what Kara assumed would be a very impressive kick if she hadn’t turned away so quickly.

When Kara reached the bottom of the stairs, she had to catch herself.

Almost ready to burst from the seams of her sewn lips was a _“Alice, we need to get out of here now.”_

Like Alice was a priority or some shit. Kara had no problem leaving her here to be Ralph’s problem… though she might have given him the wrong impression when she claimed Alice was her meatshield.

Still, even if she’d wanted to willingly say those words, everything in her mouth died when her feet hit the wood of the first floor.

Alice was terror-struck, eyes locked on an uncharacteristically excited Ralph. In one hand Ralph carried a knife, violently swaying as he couldn’t control his own fidgeting. In the other, swaying back and forth, was a rather large animal.

Kara had to resist the urge to sigh loudly. _One thing after another._

“Ah, you’re back! Ralph found this to feed your mini cretin!” He then turned, crouching by the fire. 

Alice shot Kara a desperate look.

Kara pushed down a smirk “It’s just food, Alice. Don’t be rude,” she said, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Alice to sit down. She did, frowning all the while.

Kara was all for forcing Alice to eat. That brat couldn’t even bring herself to when Kara, in her unending kindness and endurance, made her something actually edible back at Greasy’s house.

Since Alice refused to suffer from the month-old sauce then, she ought to suffer now.

Then Ralph placed the now black animal on the table, and it resonated with a wet slap.

 _Oh_.

“Ralph, you cooked it for twenty seconds.”

“Yes! Ralph has cooked it.” He scooted the rodent towards Alice. “Now eat.”

“She’ll get E-coli, dumbass.”

“Ralph doesn't know whatー”

“Of course you don’t know because you’re a fucking idiot.”

This wasn’t entertaining at all. Pain and it’s pleasures come from hard work. Kara made that spaghetti look fantastic even though the ingredients were old as dirt because Greasy didn’t know what it meant to restock a fridge. It lowered their security, and if the ache had managed to hit them before Greasy had his little abusive temper tantrum, it would have been fucking hilarious.

Simple joys were always taken away from Kara, it seems.

Ralph, oddly enough, seemed to take that a little personally. “Every time Ralph tries to be kind someone always comes and shits on his efforts. What the fuck.”

Kara struggled not to roll her eyes. “So you want a compliment? Fine.” Then, she struggled to find something _good_ to say about this malfunctioning shit-bot.

“Uh.. good job with that body upstairs. I’m not one for trophies that fester and decay, but it was a very moving presentation. Thank you.”

Alice’s expression seemed to double in horror.

Ralph, conversely, appeared to be flattered. “Ralph does try his best! The extraction process had been running slow lately, Ralph was worried he’d have to venture outside his home soon.”

Kara nodded awkwardly in agreement. In all honesty, she might prefer living with Greasy to this. How miserable.

She couldn’t dwell on that now. Ralph had calmed down a little and her window was open. Kara went for the door, ignoring Alice who was still petrified in her seat.

Kara was _seconds_ from turning the handle and getting the hell out of there when a hard knock struck the door twice, causing her to involuntarily jump backward.

“Hello?” The voice was disdainful, and a long sigh caught on to the end of their greeting as if they’d done this a million times.

“Is anybody—“ a low and pained groan cut him off. “Quit your bellyaching, Lieutenant, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

Fuck. Kara forgot about the police car.

* * *

Connor had just about enough of waiting around for people and androids alike.

“This is ridiculous. Why can’t someone just open the damn door?”

“Maybe they can tell the guy behind it is a fucking prick,” Hank murmured angrily, rubbing at the inside of his thigh where Connor had swiped him.

Connor ignored his blatant insolence. “Step back, I’m going to bust it down.” He switched his stance, facing the door with his shoulder. Connor geared up, and nearly collided with the entrance before a large hand slapped onto his forearm and latched itself there. It pulled him back, and Connor swore his upper joint almost popped out of place.

“ _Wait,”_ Hank said roughly, tugging Connor back even further.

Connor could feel the warmth from Hank’s sweaty palm seeping into the fabric of his jacket. It made him want to wretch.

He tried to yank himself out of it, but Hank’s grip was firm. Connor grimaced. “Sure, just get as comfortable as you want with me.”

“Shut up and get behind me, I’m opening it.”

Connor couldn’t hold back his snort. “I’m amazed by your self-assurance, Lieutenant. That much delusion can’t be healthy.”

Well, if Anderson wanted to be Connor’s safeguard for the five seconds it’ll take for an android or another person to drive a knife into his stomach, then he could have at it.

The house seemed to be rotting through and hardly supporting itself, so when Hank popped the door open with one thrust, Connor refused to give his strength any credit.

Connor gave the place a quick sweep with his eyes before settling on the perturbed looking android in the center of the room.

He turned his head faintly, somewhat facing Hank. “Wait out here in case it makes a run for it,” he muttered. Anderson nodded and backed up.

Turning back, and honestly, Connor wished he hadn’t, he was able to give the only present android a little more scrutiny.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

The android threw his arms up in frustration. “Everyone always says the same goddamn things to Ralph.” He looked Connor up and down. “Don’t you have a working scanner on you, detective-droid? Ralph’s sure you could see his problems for yourself.”

 _Okay, rude_ , but Connor did as suggested _without_ tearing off what was left of the stray android’s face.

He didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize the case, after all.

“Got any roommates?”

The WR600 scoffed. “Does it look like Ralph might have any _roommates_?”

You know what? They have other leads. If Connor disposed of this wreck right now, it probably wouldn’t do anything _too_ detrimental to the case.

“ _Could do without the effrontery_ ,” he seethed lowly. This deviancy case had disrespect at every turn it was ridiculous.

“Connor, what the hell are you doin’ in there?!”

_Then there’s this._

“Doing your job for you, you inciviled lobster!”

“So we’ve moved from dogs to sea creatures now?”

“Ralph feels like he shouldn’t be a part of this.”

* * *

Kara listened to whoever was out there shout for almost twenty minutes from a gap behind the stairs. It was small and cramped, but there was no way she was going to let Alice take advantage of her like she did in the bus, so she had her shoved at least two inches away by her foot.

“C’mon Connor, we’re leaving! I knew there wouldn’t be anything here.” Kara strained to hear as loud footsteps grew distant.

“ _That_ _fucking fatass hog always thinks he can order me around. I ought to..”_ That same haughty voice she’d heard at the door eventually faded alongside lighter steps. Soon the house was quiet once more.

Kara crawled out from the hiding spot Ralph had ushered them into, Alice trailing behind. “Thanks.”

“Ralph didn’t do much. They were both such idiots, didn’t even search the place.”

“Right…” Kara rocked back and forth on her feet for a bit, stalling. “So.. do you mind if I leave Alice here?”

“Get the fuck out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I happily headcannon that dirt, dust, and grime make Kara incredibly uncomfortable as she was designed to be a housekeeper. Even as a deviant she can’t help wanting to wipe something down. (She won’t do it though because fuck the system and fuck Ralph’s garbage heap of a squat)
> 
> I’M ALSO VERY SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. I WAS SUPPOSED TO FINISH A MONTH AGO BUT I’M A LAZY FUCK.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
